


Downtime

by mad_martha



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-03
Updated: 2011-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:48:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_martha/pseuds/mad_martha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair helps Jim to relax.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Downtime

"Okay …." Blair Sandburg dried the final supper dish and handed it to Jim Ellison for replacing in the cupboard above his head. "It's Friday night - what do you reckon the chances are of us being called out tonight?"

"Pretty low." Jim closed the cupboard and looked at his partner. "So?"

"So … I noticed you were pretty wired today, man. You want to do a downtime exercise?"

Jim hesitated. The urge to claim weariness, to crash in front of the TV or have an early night (better still, an early night with Blair) warred with awareness that this past week had been a difficult one in terms of sensory overload. Part of him muttered sullenly that he'd managed for years without what Blair called "downtime". Another part dryly noted that at least these days he was less of a grouchy basket-case. The first part sharply pointed out that 'grouchy' was a matter of opinion and that ex-Army Rangers did _not_ do navel-gazing. The second part reminded him - in a disinterested way - that the whole process involved a massage.

Clincher.

Blair was grinning at him knowingly. "I'll take that as a yes!"

"'Downtime exercise'," Jim mused in a resigned tone. "Nice euphemism, Chief."

"Hey, anytime you want to come up with a better name for it …."

xXx

"You borrow these tendons from the Golden Gate Bridge?"

"You're funny. What oil is that?"

"Almond oil, same as last time. Why, is it a problem?"

"Smells stronger than last time. It's okay, though, I guess."

"Good." _Thank God,_ Blair added silently. Finding a massage oil, _any_ massage oil, that didn't violently assault Jim's olfactory senses had taken considerable effort. He wouldn't have chosen to use almond oil, but it was the least offensive of the seven or eight choices he'd given his partner. "If it smells stronger, it probably just proves that you need this time out."

Jim grunted noncommittally. He always put up at least a token resistance to this ritual, Blair assumed because it soothed the macho part of him that demanded stoicism under adversity. Jim wasn't stupid though; he'd learned the hard way that not listening to his partner's recommendations often made life more difficult or uncomfortable and he knew perfectly well, even as he grumbled about it, that what Blair chose to call "downtime" was a useful and effective means of keeping the lid on his senses. By dialling all of his senses down to 'normal' levels or lower and taking time out to meditate, he gave his brain and his body a break from the incessant battering life in a modern city dealt out to a man whose genetics properly belonged in a pre-industrial age.

And Blair knew perfectly well that Jim just liked getting a good back rub, although the sentinel wouldn't readily admit to it. Well, he liked a back rub himself and Jim's sense of fair play ensured that at the end of this Blair would be rewarded.

"You going to do your breathing?" Blair suggested after a moment. The taut muscles in his partner's shoulders were slowly starting to relax.

"Not with the smell of that oil all around me."

"Seriously? It's that strong?" Blair's hands stilled for a moment. "In that case ... let's start in reverse this time. Dial your sense of smell down first."

Hearing was usually Jim's biggest problem. Blair's tests had shown that all of his senses were well off the scale for an ordinary human, but hearing was the strongest and most difficult for him to control. That said, smell had to come a close second. Over the last few months in particular, as they adjusted to the new level of intimacy between them, there had been one or two interesting exercises in finding appropriate soaps, shampoos and deodorants that didn't drive the poor guy nuts or, worse, actually result in an allergic reaction. Blair had noticed that since their relationship became sexual Jim's senses of smell and taste and, to a lesser extent, touch had all gone into overdrive.

Unsure about his partner's possible reaction to this information, though, he'd chosen to wait and see if Jim noticed by himself. The anthropologist in Blair had a few theories about the phenomenon (the link between sex and the senses was a no-brainer, and it was an established fact that sex and the human sense of smell could alter the biorhythms of a couple), but as Jim's lover he had learned to exercise discretion and leave well alone.

Anyway, if Jim had noticed (and Blair was sure he had, for his partner had a pretty good grip on his senses these days) he hadn't asked yet, which was probably just as well. They both had enough on their plates already.

"You dialled down?"

"Uh-huh."

"Right, now take the others down - touch first, then taste, you know the routine."

The curious thing was that he could see Jim visibly relaxing as the pressure from each of his senses was reduced. This might not have been the worst week he'd experienced by a long shot, but he _needed_ this time out. The relief when, finally, his hearing was down to 'normal' levels was palpable.

Blair gave his shoulder a final, gentle squeeze. "Okay, man, you know what comes next. Stretch out."

This was the part that always made Jim a little uncomfortable. He simply wasn't a meditating kind of guy, and awareness of this telegraphed itself to Blair in one brief, over-the-shoulder look before he shuffled himself forward slightly and stretched out on the rug. Blair snagged a cushion from the couch and pushed it under his partner's head, and Jim tried to settle himself, folding his hands lightly across his stomach and closing his eyes. Anyone less aware of him than Blair might have been fooled into thinking he was relaxed.

Of course it didn't help, Blair thought as he folded himself into a sitting position at Jim's head and forced his own muscles to relax, that just lately this had been making him nervous too. It was one thing to talk the talk about spirit animals, Sentinel temples and the spiritual link between a sentinel and his shaman-guide, but it wasn't until he'd actually started experiencing it first hand that he realised how downright _unnerving_ it was.

That pesky link between sex and the senses again. Apparently it did things for sentinels and guides, taking them to places that no Sandburg had gone before.

In that respect Jim had a decided advantage over Blair. Incredibly, for a stoic, macho, ex-Army Ranger guy, he just _accepted_ that this weird sentinel stuff went with the territory, whatever his personal misgivings, and dealt with it. Blair still sweated over it occasionally. That said, Jim had just accepted the change in their relationship, which sure as hell was the bigger surprise to his partner. Where were the macho protestations about _that?_ Sometimes it made him wonder just which of them was talking the talk after all.

He was suddenly conscious of the stillness of the room around them. That was good. He rested the knuckles of his left hand lightly against the top of Jim's head for a moment, feeling the heat of his body through the short hair.

"Okay, big guy, you know the drill. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, and just let everything go …."

It spoke volumes for their relationship that Jim did exactly that. Blair could feel him relax completely and not for the first time was humbled by his partner's trust in him. Letting himself go was far harder; these sessions had developed into something that bore no resemblance to the traditional meditation he had learned, something that was more a shamanic vision-quest, only not nearly so gentle.

Blair steadied his breathing, allowing himself to wonder, just for a split-second, where this latest wild ride would lead them, then closed his eyes and let himself go with the flow.

xXx

No, it wasn't gentle.

One minute he was breathing in the faint aroma of Jim-and-almond-oil, feeling the texture of the rug beneath him; the next he was slamming into his body and hurtling through the jungle undergrowth in the wake of his partner. Leaves and branches whipped past his face; the air was heavy with moisture and rich with the complex green scents of foliage. The strangest sensation of all, though, was the occasional inner uncertainty about whether he was running on two legs or four.

Fortunately, the need to keep up with Jim, who moved at that steady, ground-devouring, Ranger's lope, left no room for introspection. Blair plunged through the jungle behind him, aware of where they were heading - where they always headed - but needing to keep the sentinel in sight for his own peace of mind. He was conscious that they were not alone, despite appearances, although he could not have said what it was that paced them as they followed a path that only Jim could truly see.

Then they were bursting out into a clearing and Blair came to an abrupt halt behind Jim, the two of them staring up at the carved stone pillars of the entrance to the Temple of the Sentinels. He took the chance to gulp down air, aware that he was running with sweat from the exercise, in contrast to Jim who barely seemed to have worked up a glow. They were both bare-chested and wearing a kind of doeskin leggings, like Native Americans; both had sheathed knives strapped to their right thighs and Jim had a second, longer knife in a reversed sheath across his back. Jim had an elaborately braided leather thong tied about his right bicep, while Blair was conscious that he was wearing an amulet on a beaded thong around his neck and a band around his forehead, holding back his hair but with something dangling down the side of his face just out of his sight.

The symbolism was pretty heavy. This was sentinel and shaman operating in concert in their original environment, which might explain why the temple was in considerably better condition than the one occasion Blair had actually seen it for real.

He hoped this wasn't one of the occasions when they went inside. Those were always the less pleasant vision-quests. But this time Jim seemed quite relaxed and unconcerned. He stood for a moment or two, sniffing the air, then glanced down at Blair and gave him a quirky half-grin and jerked his head to one side.

They were going around. Blair nodded, relieved, and followed as his partner led the way at a reduced pace around the side of the temple and onto a path that was actually visible to the guide. He wasn't sure exactly where they were going – it always seemed to be different, no matter how many times they did this - but trusted Jim who had never led them wrongly yet. He knew when the sentinel picked up his pace until he was running again that they were close to their goal.

Abruptly Jim turned and grabbed his wrist. Blair had no time to object; they were running and suddenly there was clear ground and an empty space up ahead and he was yelling a protest but it was too late and there was air beneath their feet and he heard Jim whoop and they were falling, falling, falling, falling ….

There was no _smack_ as they hit the surface below, only a smooth plunge into cool, clear water.

When Blair resurfaced, thrashing and spluttering, Jim was laughing at him.

"You asshole! You could have killed us both!"

"Are you kidding?" Jim flipped a handful of water at him, then struck out for the side of the pool with a leisurely over-arm stroke. Blair followed far less gracefully, simmering resentfully.

Still, this was a nice place, a little touch of paradise in an otherwise rather hostile jungle. There was a waterfall at the head of the pool; sunlight poured through the gap in the trees that the gorge provided, sparkling off the water and illuminating the rocks and succulent green plants around the edges. Jim was already pulling himself out of the water to sit on one of the larger rocks.

"Nice, huh?" the sentinel commented when his guide dragged himself onto the rock beside him.

Blair nodded, resentment melting away as he studied the place. "Is this connected to the temple somehow?" he asked.

Jim shrugged. "No idea."

"One of the perks of the job, maybe."

"Could be."

"Cool."

"Very cool."

Jim was grinning at him again; Blair tried to glower but the rare mischief in his partner's face made it impossible. He gave him a gentle punch on one arm instead.

"Asshole. You know I hate heights!"

"Come on, Chief. Would I let anything happen to you here?"

Which was quite true; Jim took good care of him on these weird vision trips they shared, no matter how threatening some of the scenarios seemed. Blair gave guidance; Jim gave protection in return. It was a good system in Blair's opinion.

Jim pulled his feet up under himself and stood up. "Come on, I want to take a look in that cave."

"Wha - hey wait! What cave?"

"Come on, Chief!"

Muttering under his breath, Blair climbed to his feet and followed the other man around the edge of the pool towards the waterfall. Once he was closer to it, he could see the dark void behind it – a cave or recess, which Jim's enhanced vision had picked out from the other side of the pool. Getting to it meant climbing back into the pool, which was shallower nearer to the waterfall, and wading through the heavy spray.

Blair would have liked to stop under the waterfall for a while – it looked like fun – but Jim had already pulled himself up onto the lip of rock leading into the cave and was stepping through the curtain of water. With a sigh, his partner followed him.

It was cool and dark there, and yet there was an eerie light coming from the walls.

"Look at this, Chief," Jim said softly, gesturing to the mineral crusted rock. "Lichens?"

Blair examined the surface, fascinated. "Looks like it." For a split second he was tempted to give him partner the full lecture on the biology of luminescent lichens and plants, the one that segued into the monologue on plants and their place in tribal rituals and the judicious use of hallucinogens as a valid means of – He stopped himself just in time. This probably wasn't the time or place, and Jim hadn't been very receptive to that lecture the first time around.

Jim was already moving on and Blair scrambled to catch up with him. Bioluminescent plants or not, the light in here still wasn't quite enough for his normal, city-bred, non-sentinel eyes. It was better to stick with the guy who _did_ have excellent night vision.

"Slow down a little, will you, Jim?"

"Or you could speed up a little, Chief."

"Hello - not seeing in the dark here?"

A hand reached back unerringly and grabbed hold of his wrist. "That help?"

"Oh yeah. You can hold my hand after lights-out anytime."

A snort was the only response to this. They kept walking, Blair stumbling occasionally on the uneven floor.

"Where are we going?" he asked finally.

"To wherever this cave leads," Jim replied.

"What if it doesn't lead anywhere?"

"You tell me, shaman."

Blair thought about it. "It'll lead somewhere," he decided, although he had no idea why he'd come to that conclusion.

"Then we keep going."

So they did.

And after an indeterminate period, the light began to brighten steadily until they stepped into a wide underground space carved out of the rock of the gorge. It was well-lit, although the source of the that light was impossible to determine, and in the centre was a raised basin-shaped pool constantly being refilled from a stream of water flowing out of the mouth of a carved figure above it. Water flowed up and over the edge of the bowl to run down across the floor and follow some unseen course out of the chamber. Two jaguar statues flanked the pool and a set of steep steps led up to the lip.

There were more luminous lichens and plants all around the cave, and odd mineral formations on every surface. The air was heavy, damp and warm, almost steamy. The water flowing into the pool was obviously from a hot spring somewhere.

Leaving Jim at the entrance to the cave, Blair approached the pool cautiously, his eyes running curiously over the two statues and the carved figure above the basin. The two jaguars were almost identical to those guarding the entrance to the Temple of the Sentinels; the carving matched them in general style, being loosely Mayan but with certain idiosyncrasies that Blair hadn't yet figured out after eighteen months of study.

One thing he could tell about the figure was that it represented a medicine man, which reassured him a little. Climbing the steps to the edge of the pool, he dipped his fingers into the water warily. It was clear and steaming, hotter than he had expected but not unpleasantly so. Reassured, he let his hand sink in to the wrist. Finally, he bent over the pool and splashed his face and chest, noticing that the tension he had felt in himself from the start of this journey was almost running away with the water.

"Hey, Jim, come over here," he called, looking over his shoulder. He had an idea about this.

After a moment's hesitation the older man joined him, sitting uneasily on the top step. "Are you sure this is safe?"

"Certain," Blair said confidently. "Just sit still and let me do this."

He began to scoop up handfuls of water, pouring it over his partner and rubbing it over his skin. Jim gave him an odd little half-smile at the attention but made no comment, merely removing the knife harness slung across his back to give Blair better access. After a moment or two he too began to relax, looking mildly surprised.

"Nice," he commented, raising a questioning brow at his partner.

"Isn't it?" Blair agreed softly ….

xXx

Blair drifted back to awareness, to find himself stretched out on his stomach and minus his shirt. Firm hands were kneading his back, making him hum with contentment.

"You back with me, Chief?" Jim's voice asked, amused.

"Define "back with you"," Blair murmured. "I'm not here, wherever here is. I've died and this is Nirvana - don't stop rubbing." Then he remembered something and turned his head, squinting up at Jim with one blue eye. "How do _you_ feel?"

Jim considered the question seriously. "Pretty mellow," he admitted.

"Senses?"

"Still dialled down," was the calm reply. "They can stay that way a little longer."

"Feeling pretty relaxed generally?" he asked drowsily.

"Not as relaxed as you, obviously," and Jim dragged a teasing finger down a sensitive spot on Blair's side, making him jump and yell in outrage.

Blair flipped onto his back, fending off the mischievous fingers. "Way to ruin a good back rub, man!" he complained.

But Jim was getting to his feet. "Time for bed, Sandburg - it's nearly midnight."

"Seriously?" Blair sat up slowly, a little disappointed. "Damn. I didn't even get to enjoy that properly."

"Well, look at it this way," Jim said consolingly, as he grabbed Blair's hand and pulled him to his feet. "If you think my back rubs are good, you should try my front rubs."

Blair looked at him and began to grin. "I see …. Would this involve being upstairs and naked?"

Jim appeared to consider this. "It could help."

"I'm there!"

Jim chuckled and went to lock up, while Blair rolled up the thick African rug he used as a meditation mat for their "downtime" sessions. He shook up the cushions and tossed them back onto the couch, knowing that Jim would straighten them up anyway no matter how carefully he replaced them, and picked up their shirts. By the time Jim returned, Blair was stifling a yawn in spite of himself.

"I think you're as relaxed as you need to be," Jim remarked, giving him a gentle push towards the stairs.

"Damn," Blair muttered feelingly, knowing that his partner's assessment was all too accurate.

"We've got a long day tomorrow, partner – let's just get some sleep, okay?"

Lead-heavy feet as he climbed the stairs ahead of Jim told Blair that this was a really good idea. All the same .... "Rain check?" he asked plaintively.

Two firm, warm hands caught his bare shoulders, swept his hair back for a second, and a kiss was planted on the back of his neck.

"It's a promise," Jim assured him.


End file.
